evany's extended cake mix
(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)
get the latest
get into my head from twitter:
Monday, Nov. 17, 2003 | link
So, so, so many things happening! (Go, go, go Joseph.)
My friend Anne just opened up a cute and classy clothing store (new and consignment) in Oakland. It's called Maribel and it's at 3251 Lakeshore, across from Peet's, yes, nestled right there in the gap between Gaps. This past Saturday was the official opening and they had a DJ and food donated by local food outlets (the lemon-corn cookies from, uh, As---i something-something, hurt me with their intense tastiness). I bought semi-insane BCBG pants made of weird egg carton cardboard-y fabric covered with dapples of varying shades of Fall. I also picked up a handsome and stretchy Velvet velvet skirt in a baby aspirin pink with red stitching, which I'm wearing today with the red, hot boots I bought on day three of my undetected burst appendix (I walked around the store in them for a spacey, sweaty, semi-black-out of an hour, all, "wow, I am soooo talllll," before I managed to buy them).
OK and also ex co-worker and current friend Jay just launched PokerSavvy, which is full of canny and attitudinally charged tips, tricks, and guides, including one or two articles edited by yours truly. (Note: Turns out editing poker lingo isn't such a far cry from tech editing. I mean, "you could be in there with pocket kings to a Q-7-2 rainbow flop, but if Jim has the deuce (which he's already playing like it's the nuts), you'd better pray he doesn't hit his raggy kicker or another deuce 'cause you can bet your ass he's going to call you down to the river to get it." Haha. Huh? What? Hi!)
Then a few weeks ago I went to the CD release party for The Bother, featuring Adrienne's friend Will, and they were really good, like, sure-I'll-buy-a-copy good, and we've been listening to it on a tight, tight loop at the office (yes, both hard-to-pleases Mike and Jay dig it deep) -- turns out it's just the right music to write along to. And drink dull, dusty office coffee. And eat fundamentally compromised lunches. It's called The Night Bleeds Gold and I say, buy the spit out of it, stat.
See? See how proudifying and disgusting my smart and able harem of friends, and friends of friends, can be?